Lindin Pass
by Obsidian Dagger
Summary: (Currently being revised.) Two polar opposites. Two eternal rivals. Twenty years into the past. Harry Potter is locked in a deadly duel to survive with his fiercest rival, one Draco Malfoy. An accident sends them hurtling back in time. MWPP. Rated for
1. Sentient Malice

**Title:**Lindin Pass

**Summary:** Two polar opposites. Two eternal rivals. Twenty years into the past. Harry Potter is locked in a deadly duel to survive with his fiercest rival, one Draco Malfoy. A freak accident or a coincidence sends them hurtling back in time. MWPP

**Disclaimer:** Any characters you don't recognize are most probably of my own invention, but everything else belongs to JK Rowling.

-----

They were essentially dueling for their lives. They were perhaps Death Eater children, but faced with expulsion can bring forth impulsive reactions from the most level-headed of students.

Draco Malfoy had made a deadly mistake. He had painted a fake Dark Mark on his arm and dressed in mock Death Eater robes, and had accidentally on purpose shown them to his hated rival, one Harry James Potter. He'd never anticipated the uproar over such a joke, even when he had shown them that it was a simple fake tattoo. To the Ministry, at least, that warranted expulsion, including his accomplices that had joined on his little joke. Crabbe, and Goyle, and Theodore Nott.

So the four of them had run, not waiting to be escorted to the ministry and questioned under Veritaserum. They had sprinted across the dark grounds, using the cover of darkness as their secrecy cloak, showering increasingly dark spells over their shoulders.

Crabbe and Goyle had already fallen. Theodore followed soon after.

Draco was the only one left, his white blond hair glowing in the moonlight, his eyes narrowed in hatred for the one person that stood between him and freedom.

Harry Potter.

The dark-haired boy had no expression on his face. He simply stood, his wand held at his side, his emerald eyes boring into Draco's as the silvery blond slowed to a halt in front of him. He was silent.

"What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy snarled, his wand pointed with deadly accuracy on his opponent, the one thing that stood directly in the nearly closed gates, effectively creating a block. Harry was silent, simply watching him, still as a stone. Malfoy felt a fluttering of fear in his chest, and ruthlessly squashed it.

He took a breath to utter a curse.

And Harry came to life.

Spells were cast so fast that neither boy could comprehend, both nearly equal in skill, with Malfoy's knowledge of spells, and Harry's formidable power and lightning fast reflexes.

Harry started to draw ahead though, his slight, well muscled body, as tall as Malfoy, but more slender than him, giving him the upper hand, his muscles rippling under his school robes. His endurance surpassed Malfoy's own, and slowly, ever so slowly, Malfoy's spells weakened, and Harry's grew impossibly stronger. Malfoy's movements began to slow, and Harry seemingly increased his speed, his movements flowing and confident.

It was then that Malfoy realized just how deadly Harry Potter was. Malfoy's dueling skills surpassed his own father's by far.

His exhaustion was catching up to him, he couldn't keep it up much longer. Drawing in one last, fury-filled gasp, Malfoy released his newest, most dangerous spell.

"Sonnnorgamouss." He shouted, but his pronunciation was wrong. And his aim was off.

The spell, a paler shade than the deep lavender it was supposed to be, hit, not Harry himself, but Harry's incoming spell. There was a terrific boom, and a dome of magic burst into existence, surrounding the two boys, one with black hair, one with silvery blond, in a space filled with raging, whipping wind.

Malfoy's hair, already disheveled from his desperate run, gave one last futile effort at staying in place, before whipping around his head in silvery strands. He ducked, his arms coming up to shield his eyes from the wind. Harry stood immobile, his wand outstretched, his head held high and his back straight. His school robes whipped around him, curling around his slender, youthful frame, and his hair, longer than it had ever been before, whipped around his head in silky black locks.

His eyes, a bright, haunting emerald green, were wide with comprehension, and his lips, devoid of blood and color, began to move...in one last dangerous, desperate ploy to guide the raging, terrifying magic storm from it's intended place. His voice couldn't be heard over the wind as he began to chant, his hair and robes whipping, his body still and solid, his eyes focused entirely on something only he could see.

"..._of my last words to tell, welcome to the Thirteenth Hell..."_

Silver eyes wide with fright, Draco Malfoy opened his mouth and let loose one fear filled, child-like cry, and with a thunderous, echoing boom, the dome of magic collapsed in on itself, shaking Hogwarts' foundations where they stood.

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were gone.

-----

When Harry lifted his head, his first thought was that it hadn't worked, and that the sinister magic born of two failed spells had gotten it's way and deposited them in a place of eternal pain.

Around him, as far as the eye could see, was a bright, never-ending expanse of white, with no discernable walls, floor, or ceiling.

In fact, the only disruption in the great expanse of white was another figure, dressed almost identically as Harry himself but with the silver and green of Slytherin. Malfoy was disheveled, his hair sticking up all over the place and his robes hanging askew.

When Harry took a harder look around, he opened his other senses to discern where they were, and almost collapsed in relief. They had made it.

He rolled onto his back in his windswept, dirtied robes, and almost cried in relief. For a moment there...but no, he'd made it.

"Potter?" A soft voice came from the other boy. "Where are we?" Harry sat up with a soft laugh, his hair falling into his eyes.

"Malfoy..." He said, amusement lacing his tone. "Welcome to the Thirteenth Hell."

-----


	2. Freedom

**Title:** Lindin Pass

**Summary:** Two polar opposites. Two eternal rivals. Twenty years into the past. Harry Potter is locked in a deadly duel to survive with his fiercest rival, one Draco Malfoy. A freak accident or a coincidence sends them hurtling back in time. MWPP

**Disclaimer:** Any characters you don't recognize are most probably of my own invention, but everything else belongs to JK Rowling.

-----

Malfoy just stared.

"What?" He asked finally, incredulous. A mocking grin crossed the dark-haired boy's lips.

"Open your senses, Malfoy." He said lightly, stretching out on the floor on his back, his head cushioned on his arms. Malfoy stared and him, shell-shocked.

"_What?"_ He asked again. Harry flopped over, annoyance barely evident in his eyes.

"Feel your surroundings, Malfoy. Loose the mental walls and let feelings envelop you."

Slowly, skeptically, Malfoy did as he was told and lowered his hard placed Occlumency shields...and was nearly bowled over by the rush of fierce calm that flooded his senses.

"What the hell..." He asked in wonder, basking in the swirling, calming emotion that existed in the room. "Potter, you'd better start talking before I curse you."

"You won't." Potter said easily, sprawled prone on the white floor.

"How do you know?" Malfoy asked, his voice vicious but his intent was not. Harry only laughed.

"Try." He said, his eyes drifting closed. "I dare you." And Malfoy did try, but he couldn't seem to work up the malice, the hate, that he'd always felt for Potter. No matter what. The blond let his wand clatter back to the floor, and Potter laughed again.

"Where are we, Potter?" Malfoy asked wearily, slowly building his mental walls back up to stem the emotion, letting his mind start moving again. Potter sighed and sat up, pushing himself to his feet and drawing his wand. A quickly whispered cleaning charm and Harry's robes, skin, and hair were spotless, and an anti-crease charm applied to his clothes ensured a clean-cut appearance. Malfoy stood and followed suit.

"This, Malfoy, is where I sent us to save us from certain death. Do you know what that magic was that our two failed spells created?"

"No."

"I thought not. It was, essentially, pure malice. Evil intent. It was living, not technically, but it was aware of itself and had the ability to..._change_, itself, I guess. Like a body, really. When we created that malice, it's intent was to send us to a place called Hell's Height, which is the stereotyped hell, burning flames, rotting corpses...eternal pain...you get the idea. Obviously, I did not want to end up at the Height, so I redirected the magic against it's will to deposit us in a place that only I, Ron, Hermione, and Albus Dumbledore know exist...and only I can find."

"And where is this place, and what is it?" Malfoy asked exasperatedly. A wry, mocking grin crossed Potter's face, his head tilted slightly downward so his eyes looked up through raven hair to look him in the eye.

"This, Malfoy, is the place that I go to escape the pain...and no, it's not called heaven or anything else, although it would be more fitting. I did not name it, it already existed long before Albus Dumbledore was born, long before Merlin, with it's own name. Malfoy...you're in Hell. The Thirteenth Hell, to be exact." There was a very pregnant pause.

"You're bloody joking." Malfoy said flatly, entirely sure of himself. Harry's only response was that small mocking grin that Malfoy was beginning to loathe.

-----

"Okay, say your not joking." Malfoy said in frustration, yanking at his hair as he paced back and forth. "But how the hell are we supposed to get out of here?" Harry looked up, suddenly devoid of any mirth and strangely reluctant.

"I can get us out..." He stated softly, hesitantly.

"Then why don't you?" Malfoy exploded, pacing furiously. "This endless white is making me crazy!"

"Because I don't know where we are." Harry said softly. Malfoy stilled.

"_What?" _He yelped. "I thought we were in this...this...Thirteenth Hell!"

"We are. I suppose I didn't explain that well. I know where we are, but I don't know where the Thirteenth Hell is, I got us here too fast to pinpoint an exact location. The Thirteenth Hell moves, I don't know where we are."

"Well," Draco exploded. "How are we ever going to find out it we don't get out of here!" Harry shrugged.

"I can get us out, Malfoy, but you need to realize that for all I know, we could come out at the bottom of the ocean, or inside the earth, encased in lava."

"You're joking." Malfoy said firmly. "You're effing joking, and have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're right, Malfoy." Harry said lightly. "I don't have much of an idea, about the Thirteenth Hell or anything to do with it. This is the Last Hell, because there are thirteen. Hell's Height in the Ninth Hell. I know about it only...and only because I'm evenly spaced between Darkness and Light." Malfoy chose to ignore that, feeling like his brain was going on overload.

"Okay, okay...so...can you bring things here, when you're already here?" Malfoy was getting dizzy as he tried to keep track of it all, and the blasted, endless _white_ was making his eyes hurt and his head throb. He nearly screamed in frustration when Potter shook his head.

"Well, at least try to get us out!!" He shouted. "I'm going insane!!"

"All right, all right!" Potter said quickly, looking alarmed, and he turned away to stare off into the never ending blankness, and to Malfoy's interest, began to speak in English.

'_From here to there,_

_Then and now,_

_We have no options left to tear,_

_Take us back, these words to tell,_

_Farewell to the Thirteenth Hell.'_

There was a pause, and nothing happened, and the two boys were left staring into whiteness. With his brow furrowed, Harry repeated the rhyme, and again nothing happened. Malfoy rounded on him.

"What the hell is going on, scar-face?" He screamed, fright lacing his voice. Anger crossed Harry's face.

"Watch your mouth, ferret-boy." Harry snarled. They were facing each other now, Malfoy screaming accusations and Harry snarling in defense. Neither boy noticed when shapes began to form in the endless, colors melted into the white, and surroundings, familiar ones at that, began to swim into existence.

-----

In 1975, on October 15th, James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew were sitting down to eat dinner, laughing uproariously at something.

The Great Hall was filled with chattering students, all the tables were nearly full. There was the sound of clinking forks against plates, and laughter, talking, and shouts permeated through the huge Hall.

But an ominous cloud began to form over them, not literally, but a sort of mood damper settled over the students, settling the once rowdy crowd to a murmur.

But faint screams started sounding, as though from a great distance, and words, distorted and muffled, were spoken. Slowly, ever so slowly, the air in the center of the great hall gave a tiny ripple, and forms started appearing, faint and translucent but growing more and more solid. The hall went silent, and Headmaster Dumbledore stood up. The two figures, boys, very similar in height and build, began to get clearer, grow color, and their shouting reached the regular volume, instead of sounding far away.

"What the hell is happening, scar-face!" One of them, paler in color than the other, was screaming, his pale, pointed face growing red with the intensity of his shouts. The other one, holding himself ram-rod straight, responded in a waspish growl.

"Watch your mouth, ferret-boy."

"Idiot!" The other boy shouted. "We could be stuck in here for ever!"

"We will be if you don't shut your bastard mouth!"

"Don't call me a bastard, you're the one who brought us here!"

"Oh yes, I'm sure you would rather be in the Height, where there is absolutely no chance at escape and a life of non-living, eternal pain! And I'll call you what I damn well please!"

"You're the one who can't get us out of this damn place, you idiot!"

"I'm the one that saved your life, you coward!"

"SHUT UP, SHUT UP! I'm going mad with all this blank, never ending, goddamn _white!_" And the boy gestured wildly with a shaking, pale hand, and his eyes broke away from the dark-haired boy turning to the Hall, and he froze. The dark one followed suit.

The entire Hall was frozen, nobody moved a muscle. Some students were stopped in mid-chew, others had their mouths open in mid-word or about to take a bite. But every single eye in the hall was frozen on the two boys...until someone at the head table cleared their throat.

Both boy's, who had been wondering if it was some sort of three dimensional picture they were in, both yelped and spun around, slamming together back-to-back with their wands raised.

"May I help you?" Headmaster Dumbledore had stood up, his eyes looking curiously at the two figures, and although his eyes were friendly, his stance was not, his wand held lightly but firmly in his hand. The boys turned and looked at the Headmaster. A split second later the boy with messed silvery hair yelped, and launched himself over the table as if to run. The dark one followed, but instead of running with the other, he lunged forward and caught him, spinning the blond boy around.

"Stop...look!" He said loudly, attracting his companion's attention. "It's not him!"

"That the bloody hell are you talking about, of course it's him Pot..." His voice trailed off, taking in the visage of a younger Albus Dumbledore, who had less lines on his face and the merest trace of light auburn remaining in his hair.

"Bloody Hell!" He shouted. "It's not him!"

The black-haired boy was laughing when he let go of the blond, and stretched out his arms to his sides, his fingers splayed. He spun around, and tilted his head back.

"We're free!" He shouted. "Oh my god, I'm fucking free! Don't you get it? There're no obligations here...were nothing in this place!"

The blond boy's face, drawn with worry, suddenly began to relax, and he drew in a deep, shuddering breath as he felt the worries of being a caught Death Eater evaporated.

"You mean...?" He whispered, and turned to stare at the Head table. The teachers had stunned looks on their faces, but Dumbledore had suddenly relaxed, his eyes twinkling brightly. Every single face was either not familiar, or twenty years younger. As he turned to stare at the students, he saw familiar features, but no familiar faces. A glance at his watch showed that time was still ticking, but the calendar had vanished.

He looked up and saw that Potter had frozen, his mouth slack as he stared at someone at the Gryffindor table. Malfoy followed his eyes, and felt his jaw drop.

There, sitting with exactly the same expression on his face, was another Harry Potter, but this one had different glasses, hazel eyes, and no scar. Even Malfoy recognized the face of the famed James Potter.

"Oh my fucking god." He muttered, and promptly sat down.

-----


	3. Mallard and Porter

Lindin Pass

-----

"Oh my fucking god." Dazedly, Harry registered the words and forced himself to turn to the silvery haired boy. He turned just in time to see Malfoy sit down with a thump on the ground, looking pale and stunned.

Staggering slightly, Harry stumbled over to Malfoy with a dazed expression, reached down, grasping Malfoy's robes, and hauled him to his feet. Firmly avoiding looking at the Gryffindor table, Harry turned resolutely to a younger Professor Dumbledore with an expressionless face but pleading eyes. Luckily, Dumbledore took the hint.

"Shall we take this somewhere else, gentlemen?" The old wizard asked lightly. Harry nodded, his eyes still glassy. Malfoy seemed to be having an overload, and the only thing keeping him on his feet was the fact that Harry was clutching a fistful of his robes. Malfoy rather expected that the black-haired boy did it to hold himself up too.

They followed the old wizard from the shell-shocked hall, and when they got out, it seemed as if tension faded slightly, and common sense returned. Harry released Malfoy with a low noise of disgust, and both leaped away from each other. Dumbledore looked over at them curiously.

"Don't touch me, Potter."

"As if I liked it, Malfoy." Harry snarled. Malfoy merely sneered, and Harry gave a curl of his lip in reply.

When they reached the ugly stone gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore gave them a split second look, but both boys read the look in his eyes…the reluctance to divulge the password. Harry growled again.

"You can always change the blasted password." Malfoy snapped, looking off down the corridor. Both boys were on opposite sides of the hall, arms crossed defensively over their chests, studiously avoiding eye contact with each other or the Headmaster, who had a faint look of apology in his twinkling blue eyes.

"Toffee Nut." The old man said to the gargoyle, which came to life and jumped aside. The revolving staircase behind it began to move, and all three of them stepped on it and let it carry them up to the dark oak door.

"Come in and sit down please, my boys." Dumbledore said cheerfully. Harry entered the office and looked around, seeing that it hadn't changed much in twenty years other than more silver whirring things had been added to the old man's collection.

Fawkes looked at them as they moved in, and trilled quietly at the old man, who smiled. Harry accepted a seat at the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk, and Malfoy reluctantly sat in the one next to him.

"Now, my boys. Why don't you tell me your real names? Obviously, you're a Malfoy and a Potter, but what of your first names?"

"Harry." Harry replied.

"Draco Malfoy." Malfoy followed suit, the expression on his aristocratic face telling volumes of how he would _never_ introduce himself with just his first name.

"Well, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy. I'm guessing you will have an interesting story to tell?"

"We can't tell much." Harry sat forward in his chair, giving Malfoy a cold look. "Obviously, from what you've deduced, we've come back in time. I think I know how, not that I understand how, but I know what happened. I can't tell you though…time-travel of this magnitude is a deadly thing."

"Indeed, quite so." Dumbledore said amiably.

"What we need," Harry said softly. "Is a place to stay for a while. We need a place to get away from the prejudice that plagues our time."

"A place where we're not hunted." Malfoy put in. Dumbledore looked doubtful.

"Is Voldemort still alive in your time?" There was an urgent look in the old man's eyes as he leaned forward. Harry felt a dark, bitter smile cross his lips.

"Headmaster, Voldemort is almost immortal. The war is raging…children fifteen and older are being trained for battle…on both sides."

"Nobody has stopped him?" Dumbledore said in horror. Malfoy smirked, but neither boy answered the question. There was a pause, and Harry spoke again.

"I'm afraid we don't have any funds or supplies with us, but I think I can make you a deal. We're battle trained…we can help with this war." Harry said. Malfoy made a funny sound in his throat and opened his mouth to speak, but cut off when Harry made a sharp motion with his hand.

"You can duel?" The Headmaster asked. Both boys looked at him incredulously.

"We can kill." Malfoy said, as if it happened everyday.

"Well, we don't want that…" Dumbledore said hastily. Harry gave another bitter smile.

"You have to, where we come from." Harry said softly. "You kill…or you die."

-----

"Well, we need names." Harry said about ten minutes later. They had finished answering Dumbledore's questions, and the man had agreed to help them purchase needed supplies. "Draco Malfoy has to be changed, unfortunately. We'd change Malfoy anyways, but Draco is also too unusual."

"What?" Malfoy said with consternation. "I can't even keep my given name?"

"Not unless you want your father to be suspicious."

"What about you then?" Malfoy challenged.

"I'll be Harry Porter."

"WHAT? You get to keep a similar name and I have to change mine completely?"

"No…you can be Drake Miller."

"Miller?!"

"What's wrong with it?"

"It sounds…"

"You can be Mallard, if you like."

"Well." Malfoy scathed. "That's better than _Miller_, at least."

"What's so wrong with Miller?" Harry asked, bemused. Malfoy rolled his eyes but didn't answer.

"What House were you boys in?"

"Slytherin." Malfoy said proudly, and then froze. "Er…"

"Me too." Harry sang happily. Malfoy's jaw dropped, but he hurriedly snapped it closed again, trying to look unconcerned. Harry giggled a bit. Malfoy looked affronted.

"Slytherin?" Dumbledore looked bemused. Harry giggled again, harder at Malfoy's venomous glare.

"Yep, that's right." Harry said happily. "The Slimy Snakes, that's us."

"Now really, Potter…" Malfoy began, looking highly insulted.

"Shut up, Mallard." Harry said swiftly, and quickly hitched a slightly airy, angelic smile on his face.

"Well, we'll have to have you try on the Sorting Hat again, as it's tradition and you can't sit at a House table unless you have. I think we'll do it at breakfast tomorrow, that will give you time for your Head of House to give you yours schedule."

"Alright, Professor Dumbledore." Harry said lightly. "That's sounds wonderful."

"Very good, if you will follow me. I have rooms that you can use for the night." The old man led the boys from his office.


	4. Spoiled Excuse for a Hat

**Title:** Lindin Pass

**Summary:** Two polar opposites. Two eternal rivals. Twenty years into the past. Harry Potter is locked in a deadly duel to survive with his fiercest rival, one Draco Malfoy. A freak accident or a coincidence sends them hurtling back in time. MWPP

**Disclaimer:** Any characters you don't recognize are most probably of my own invention, but everything else belongs to JK Rowling.

-

"Must you act so completely…" Malfoy's mouth worked as he attempted to find the right word.

"Ditzy?" Harry asked, and giggled.

"Well…that's not a word I'd have used, but essentially, yes."

"Because I want to be underestimated." Harry said airily. "If people look at me as a ditzy teenager, they'll be flabbergasted when I turn around and kill someone."

"Oh. I see." Malfoy said dryly.

The boys were in their room for the night. It was small, but comfortably done in Slytherin colors. It was in the dungeons, but there was a warm fire in the grate and two large four-posters in the large bedroom, as well as, Harry noted, a pair of robes for each of them.

Harry suddenly went serious.

"Malfoy, listen up. We've got to get our story straight and following."

"Yes, what is going on with that?"

"Well, we're sixth year students from a private school in…"

"Cornwall."

"…Cornwall, and we moved here because…"

"We're orphans?"

"Bugger. Yeah, all right, we're orphans. Hmmm, school name?"

"It's Cornwall Secondary Academy. It's for people that can't afford Hogwarts. Its educating system isn't up to par with Hogwarts either."

"Ah." Harry paused, and looked apprehensive. "Will we have to act dumb?"

"I'm not." Malfoy said flatly.

"Oh, good, then I'm not either." Harry said in relief.

"Why did you say that we were both in Slytherin?" Malfoy asked, turning his head to look the darker boy in the eye.

"Because we have to be in the same house." Harry was suddenly utterly serious. "Can you imagine the uproar if we were interrogated by housemates and gave different answers under pressure?" No playful sparkle danced in his eyes, no smile hovered on his lips. His eyes were icy chips of emerald, and his face was taught and drawn. Malfoy suddenly realized what he was looking at. Not the Golden Boy persona that Potter projected, but the boy under the façade…the Slytherin he was meant to be.

"All right, Potter, I get it." Malfoy said. "But what if the Hat tries to put us in different Houses?"

"It won't." Harry said calmly. "I fought tooth and nail against Slytherin, so unless you did the same against another House, which I doubt, we'll be together."

"No, if you remember, the Hat never touched my head. How did you 'fight tooth and nail against Slytherin'?"

"The Hat didn't talk to you?"

"_Talk?"_

"Yeah. A little voice that speaks to you. It told me I'd be great in Slytherin, but I'd already met you, who reminded my of my fat cousin, Ron, who was nice to me and aiming for Gryffindor, and Hagrid, who filled my head with his own opinions."

"That oaf!"

"He was kind to me." Harry said, an underlying hint of steel in his voice. Malfoy subsided with a snarl.

-

"I can't ruddy believe this." Malfoy, now called Drake Mallard, was snarling in disgust as he peered apprehensively through the door that was cracked open. On the other side, the Hall was full of students at breakfast that were chatting enthusiastically, as Dumbledore had just announced Draco and Harry's presence.

They were in the anti-chamber off the Great Hall, and Malfoy was peering with one eye through the crack in the door, and Harry was hovering rather nervously behind him. Both were dressed in black school robes over the standard school uniform.

"Wouldn't you want to go into Gryffindor with your parents, Potter?" Malfoy asked curiously.

"No." Harry replied. "I would probably make a slip, and I can't be around Pettigrew for very long knowing what he does in the future."

"I see." Malfoy said, and his gray eyes skimmed the hall and landed on a head of hair much like is own. Lucius Malfoy was smirking at a tall, black haired boy across the table. When the dark boy turned his head, Malfoy immediately recognized the sharp, cruel profile of his godfather, Severus Snape.

"Snape's here." Harry said from over his shoulder, also peering out the door. To Malfoy's surprise, there was no hate in his voice, but rather a bitter and sympathetic apathy.

"Of course, Potter." Malfoy said scathingly. "He's in the same year as your parents. My father's a year older."

"I know. He's another reason I can't be in Gryffindor."

"Why not?"

Harry didn't answer, just turned away, straightening his robes and running his fingers through his messy black hair. Malfoy scowled, but didn't press the other boy, also straightening his appearance and waiting for the signal.

"I'd like to introduce Mr. Drake Mallard and Mr. Harry Porter." Dumbledore's resonating voice carried to their ears, and Harry stepped forward and pushed open the door, striding out with a long, languid stride that reminded Malfoy, ironically, of his godfather.

Malfoy followed the darker boy, unconsciously copying his own father's straight, confident walk, his practiced smirk falling effortlessly onto his face. The hall quieted as Harry lead the way, with his silent, prowling walk, towards the old, ratty looking hat in front of the hall.

McGonagall motioned to Malfoy first, calling his name.

"Mallard, Drake." And Malfoy swept forward towards the stool. He sneered at the though of sitting at the stool, so he stood beside it with a warning look in his eyes. McGonagall said nothing, just handed him the Hat. Again, even before it touched his head, the Hat screamed out the House.

"Slytherin!" And Draco handed the hat to the Deputy Headmistress and stalked his way towards the Slytherin table. His silvery eyes swept the table, searching for a place to sit, and unsurprisingly, it was Lucius Malfoy who beckoned him. Draco knew that his own silvery hair would have intrigued his father, and so it was no unexpected that the older boy had offered a place near him to sit.

"Hello." Lucius said in his cold, familiar drawl. Draco was suddenly struck, however, by the naiveté that he could see in his teenaged father's eyes. War had not shadowed him yet, for the older Lucius would not have offered a word of greeting. Draco found himself copying his father's, not this boy, but his father's familiar greeting, a cold, curt inclination of the head and a superior sneer. Lucius looked startled for only a moment, before he recovered admirably and introduced himself.

"I am Lucius Malfoy. It is a…pleasure to meet you."

"Drake Mallard." Draco responded. He did not miss the pause in the sentence, and he knew that it was to plant uncertainty in the other. He retaliated in kind. "The…pleasure…is all mine."

"Indeed." The startled look was in Lucius's eye again. He turned to the dark-haired boy. "This is Severus Snape, potions extraordinaire, that is Theodore Nott, Richard Avery, Bowie Goyle, and Linny Crabbe."

"Pleasure." Draco said coldly, and resolutely turned towards the front of the Hall, where McGonagall had just called, "Porter, Harry!"

Harry stepped forwards, and, remembering the plan, smiled a small, bright smile and plopped down on the stool. A student in Hufflepuff gave a quiet giggle as the Hat was settled on Harry's black hair.

_"I have never sorted you before, but you have been Sorted by me. Now that is strange, isn't it? Well, lets look at you. Ah, sly, cunning, smart, brave, and loyal. Now that's interesting."_

"Slytherin, please." Harry whispered under his breath.

_"Are you sure?"_

"What?" Harry asked, again out loud but very quietly. He furrowed his brow and frowned, shaking his head slightly. "Yes, of course I'm sure."

_"It seems that I sorted you into Gryffindor before."_

"Yes, but I need to be in Slytherin this time."

_"And why is that?"_

Harry frowned, suddenly feeling irritated. "Listen up you spoiled excuse for a Hat." He snarled. "You're being unexpectedly resistant, and I do not appreciate it." To late, Harry realized that he'd talked a little to loud, and his voice carried throughout the hall. The Slytherins and Gryffindors snorted, realized what they'd done and glared at the opposite house, the Hufflepuffs giggled and the Ravenclaws smiled. "Oops." Harry muttered.

_"Well, you're being unexpectedly vehement."_ The hat said, amused._ "So that will put you in…"_

"Slytherin!"

-

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